Consolation prize
by Mornwey
Summary: John wants Bobby and Gambit wants Rogue. But as long as Bobby and Rogue are together, they're going to have to settle for what they can get [SLASH]
1. A Very Crappy Party

**Consolation Prize**

**Summary: John wants Bobby, and Gambit wants Rogue. But as long as Bobby and Rogue are together, they have to settle for what they can get SLASH  
Fandom: X-men  
Pairings: Bobby/Rogue, John/Bobby (One-sided), Remy/Rogue (One-sided), Remy/John  
Warnings: Slash  
Disclaimer: They all belong to people with expensive lawyers. I'm just screwing with them for my own twisted amusement  
Author's Note: I have nothing more than the vaguest passing acquaintance with the comic-verse canon. Everything I know about Gambit comes from reading other people's fics. So if he's OOC, it isn't my fault. Besides – he's drunk. He doesn't have to be in character **

**Always remember – feedback is crack for fan-fiction writers**

St John Allerdyce was in an exceptionally foul mood. Because Bobby Drake, the guy he'd wanted ever since he'd first laid eyes on him, had just announced to the entire school that he was going out with Rogue. A cheer greeted this declaration, since most of them were at the stage where they would cheer anything on general principle – they were so high on sugar they might as well have been drinking. John decided that he'd had about all he could take of this particular party.

He wove his way through the crowd and slipped out of the doors to the corridor. The thought of drinking heavily suddenly seemed very appealing, so his feet took him on the familiar route to the boy's dorms.

John tensed at the sound of footsteps behind him. _Anyone but Jubilee_, he thought. She'd spent half of the night trying to chat him up, and the other half happily ignoring his decreasingly subtle hints that he wasn't interested. He couldn't see what was going to put her off short of standing on a table and announcing to the entire school that he was gay. Admittedly he'd probably get a cheer, but that was beside the point.

But whoever it was turned a corner before they reached him, so he continued on his way undisturbed. It wasn't long before he reached his destination – Gambit's room.

Drink was technically forbidden to students, but the Cajun always seemed able to get alcohol from somewhere, and a black market of sorts had sprung up. The alcoholically inclined students always went to him for drink. Although he generally charged money, it was free to a select few, and John was privileged to be one of them. They had spent a great many nights getting pleasantly drunk, turning up for class hung-over if they turned up at all. He knocked the door – no answer.

"You lookin' fo' Remy, _chéri_?"

John turned at the sound of the voice behind him. Gambit ambled along the corridor, his usual devilishly charming grin slightly marred by the fact that he was clearly supremely pissed-off about something. John shrugged;

"I was lookin' for some drink."  
"_Chéri_ no' havin' fun at de party?"  
"Well guessed."

John followed Gambit into the room, and flopped onto the bed as the thief rooted about in a drawer - finally producing a bottle of whiskey which he tossed to John. He opened it gratefully and took a long pull as Remy sank onto the bed beside him. They passed the bottle back and forth in companionable silence for a while, the noise of the party filtering up through the carpet. The floor trembled slightly from the volume of music and sheer mass of people below.

"So what eatin' you, _chéri_?" Remy said eventually.

If anyone else had asked, John would have said that he was just in desperate need of a drink, then changed the subject. But apart from Bobby, Remy was the closest thing he had to a friend at the school. So he found himself telling the whole, long, pathetic saga. Later he would blame the whiskey (They were on the second bottle), but it seemed like a good idea at the time.

"…and now he's with her," he finished morosely. He drained the last of the whiskey and looked at Remy, who had a rather odd look on his face.  
"Remy glad to see he no' de only one no' happy 'bout that."  
"Eh?" With parts of his brain gently dissolving in Jack Daniels' finest, John wasn't exactly thinking straight. But even in such a state, certain things suddenly became clear to him. _He likes Rogue? Actually, that does explain a lot_.

They spent the next while plotting ways of breaking up Bobby and Rogue, which was fun even if they would never work. A third bottle – Morgan's Spiced this time – was being passed back and forth as they commiserated. Ironic that the school's biggest rebel and most notorious skirt-chaser would find themselves in such a situation.

John finished the Morgan's, staggered across the room – much more difficult that it sounded, as the floor kept trying to become a wall – and fished in the drawer for a fourth bottle. To his frustration, he couldn't find one. He shook his head to clear the fog from his mind and tried to concentrate. _Come on, alcohol tolerance, where are you when I need you?_ He stood still for a moment and forced himself to think coherently.

"Remy? Where's the booze?"

Remy stood and crossed the room – a little more steadily than John – and looked at the drawer for a moment as if trying to work something out.

"Remy don' think dere is any more."  
"Fuck."

John looked up at Remy, who was probably a foot taller than him, and shrugged. They were probably drunk enough already. He turned and attempted to walk back to the bed, but his feet betrayed him and he stumbled. He probably would have done himself a serious injury if Remy hadn't caught him and pulled him upright. John leaned against the thief, not trusting his own legs to hold him.

"Rogue doesn't know what she's missin'," he mumbled into Remy's jacket.  
"Remy thinks _cheri_ 'as 'ad too much to drink."  
"No, m' serious." John gave a bright smile quite unlike his usual smirk.

John prided himself on knowing what to do in almost every situation. But he found himself momentarily at a loss when Remy kissed him.

**TO BE CONTINUED... **


	2. A Lemon Flavoured Interlude

**Consolation Prize**

**Summary: John wants Bobby, and Gambit wants Rogue. But as long as Bobby and Rogue are together, they have to settle for what they can get SLASH  
Fandom: X-men  
Pairings: Bobby/Rogue, John/Bobby (One-sided), Remy/Rogue (One-sided), Remy/John  
Warnings: Slash  
Disclaimer: They all belong to people with expensive lawyers. I'm just screwing with them for my own twisted amusement.  
Author's Note: Re-rated 'T', just in case  
Huggles and kisses to my wonderful reviewers. I love you all.**

_What the hell just happened?  
I think Remy just kissed me  
Okay, guess we're drunker than we thought we were. Why is this happening?  
What, you're complaining? It feels pretty damn good to me.  
I didn't say I was complaining  
Then stop making things difficult and just go with it!_

All of this ran through John's head in the moments before alcohol and teenage hormones worked their magic. He moaned softly, lips parting in sweet surrender.

"Rogue _really_ doesn't know what she's missin'," John said rather breathlessly when they finally broke apart for air.  
"Remy suspects dat _chéri_ will think different in de morning."  
"Don't care."  
"Well in dat case," Remy gave a predatory grin; "Dere's a problem."  
"What?"  
"Dat _chéri_ is talking when Remy can think of far more interestin' things he could be doing wit his mouth…"

And after that, coherent thought was drowned by sensation. Suddenly they were both wearing entirely too much clothing, and John set about rectifying this situation as Remy steered him towards the bed. John had never been much for religion, but he found himself fervently thanking any deity that might be listening for the deft hands of a thief.

They finally reached the bed. An empty bottle was prodding John between the shoulder-blades, but this seemed like a very minor concern in comparison to everything else that was going on. Everything else became mere background to hot, hungry kisses, and skilled hands inflicting torturous ecstasy on him. The occasional bite of teeth or nails contrasted deliciously with the caress of soft lips and hands. Then he gave an incoherent moan of protest as it stopped.

"Cheri is sure about dis?"  
"I swear, if you ask me that one more time…"  
"Dat's all Remy needed to 'ear."

And the rest, as they say, was history.

**By the way, if you have any ideas about what I should do with my fic, please do share. Because I have absolutely no idea where I'm going with this. Seriously. None whatsoever.**


	3. Convention Sucks

**Consolation Prize**

**Summary: John wants Bobby, and Gambit wants Rogue. But as long as Bobby and Rogue are together, they have to settle for what they can get SLASH  
Fandom: X-men  
Pairings: Bobby/Rogue, John/Bobby (One-sided), Remy/Rogue (One-sided), Remy/John  
Warnings: Slash  
Disclaimer: They all belong to people with expensive lawyers. I'm just screwing with them for my own twisted amusement. **

**Author's Note: Yes, I know my French is bad. It's close enough for the purposes of this fic**

**Huggles and kisses to my wonderful reviewers. I love you all.**

**Chapter3 - Convention Sucks**

When John awoke the next morning, the first thing he did was run a mental inventory - all appendages present and correct, slight headache, and a distinct lack of clothing. However, other than this he was warm and comfortable, so he decided against moving. Or opening his eyes, which experience told him would be painful. In fact he didn't stir at all until his pillow - which had previously been extremely comfortable - moved, and he realised it was alive. There was a familiar moment of panic, in the best tradition of drunken one night stands, in which he tried to work out what had happened the previous night. He remembered the party, and then getting drunk with…Remy? He finally summoned the courage to open his eyes, and looked up into a familiar red-on-black gaze.

"_Bon matin, chéri_."  
"Ugh. No French, please. I can barely cope with English right now."  
"_Ah, chéri pauvre. Je voudrais dire je sympathisant, mais tu serais je menté._"  
"Was I meant to understand any of that?"  
"No' really, _chéri_."  
"That's okay then."

John squinted at the clock on the bedside table, wincing as the bright sunlight streaming in through the window stung his eyes. As far as he could make out, they didn't need to get out of bed for an hour yet. Which idiot decided that Wednesday was a good night for a party anyway? But at that moment class seemed a very distant prospect. In the meantime, John was quite happy to continue using Remy's chest as a pillow, and get another hour's sleep.

All in all, this seemed like a very good plan. And it continued to seem like a good plan until an hour later, when Remy's alarm clock started shrieking at them. John, nursing an alcohol-induced headache, winced. Remy groped blearily on the bedside table, trying to find the clock and turn it off. When a closer inspection revealed that it was actually on the desk at the other side of the room, he finally gave up and rolled out of bed, John giving a sleepy mumble of protest as he was deprived of his pillow. This was succeeded by an indignant yelp as a towel hit him in the face.

"_Chéri_ won' 'ave time for a shower if he doesn' get up now."

He finally managed to get his head together enough to sit up as Remy disappeared into the bathroom. John picked his shirt up off of the floor and sniffed it…it'd do for one more day. Shielding his eyes from the bright sunlight, he staggered out of bed. He eyed himself in the mirror and ran his hands through his hair to try and get it into some semblance of order.

The sounds of running water stopped, and John retrieved his towel from the bed. Remy stepped out of the bathroom, drying his hair, unselfconsciously naked. _Not that he has anything to be self-conscious about_, John thought appreciatively. Convention dictated that one night stands should be awkward and embarrassing afterwards, but John had never been one to follow the conventions on any subject. As far as he could see, a good drink and some no-strings-attached sex was nothing to be regretted.

They received a few strange looks when they turned up late for breakfast together, but no-one commented. They went their separate ways, John taking his usual seat at the same table as Bobby and Rogue.

"What were you doing last night?" Bobby asked, "You never came back to our room."  
John suppressed a smirk at the vivid mental replay of the previous night that had just run through his head; "Got drunk," he said indifferently, "An' can you keep it down a bit? I'm hung-over here."  
"Serves you right," Bobby replied. John, attention firmly on his toast, flipped him off without looking up.

The day passed uneventfully enough until combat class, which they had immediately before lunch. Sweaty and exhausted, they headed back to the changing rooms, bitching about what a slave-driver Professor Summers was. John gratefully peeled off his shirt and shorts; both of which were dirty and soaked in sweat.

"Holy shit, John!"

John looked up, nonplussed, to see that the entire class was staring at him. Suddenly self-conscious, he looked down at himself. _Oh yeah_… Thinking of nothing more than a shower, he had completely forgotten that he was covered in an assortment of scratches, bruises and bite-marks.

"Did Jubilee finally have her wicked way with you?" Bobby asked, smirking.  
John snorted; "Yeah, right. I'd rather die."  
"Who was it, then?" John didn't dignify that with an answer. Deciding he'd had enough of this conversation, he went on the offensive.  
"Why you so bothered, Drake?" he asked with a wicked grin; "Jealous?"  
"No!" Bobby said vehemently, glowering at their sniggering audience. John's grin widened – he was in control, and he knew it; "I don't…I'd never…"  
"You are such a closet case," John said, "Don't even try and deny it." A triumphant smirk hovered on his lips as he turned and headed towards the showers, taking a twisted delight in Bobby's furious blush and the mocking laughter of their classmates.

Not really paying attention on the way to get his lunch, John almost walked straight into someone. He started to apologise, then fell silent as he realised who it was.

"_Bonjour_," Remy said lazily. John waited to see if more was forthcoming. When the silence drew out, he felt obliged to say something.  
"I don't know where you get the drink, but thanks for sharing."  
"_Chéri_ enjoyed 'imself, den?"  
"Yeah."  
"Well in dat case…dere's plenty more where dat came from." Remy grinned and walked away. It would have sounded to anyone listening that he was talking about the drink, but John new for a fact that there was none left…

He blinked at the receding figure. Unless he had spectacularly misinterpreted their conversation, Remy had just said that he had really rather enjoyed the previous night, and wouldn't be averse to a repeat performance. By definition a one-night stand was only supposed to happen once. But once more, John decided that convention could just go on and do its thing without him.

"And why not?" he murmured, a sly grin spreading across his face. Maybe this time he could even avoid the hangover.

**Translation:  
_Ah, chéri pauvre. Je voudrais dire je sympathisant, mais tu serais je menté _– Ah, poor dear. I would like to say I sympathise, but you would know I was lying. **

**(More or less…I know the roots are right, but I have a feeling I've conjugated _mentir_ wrongly)**


	4. Epilogue

**Consolation Prize**

**Summary: John wants Bobby, and Gambit wants Rogue. But as long as Bobby and Rogue are together, they have to settle for what they can get SLASH  
Fandom: X-men  
Pairings: Bobby/Rogue, John/Bobby (One-sided), Remy/Rogue (One-sided), Remy/John  
Warnings: Slash  
Disclaimer: They all belong to people with expensive lawyers. I'm just screwing with them for my own twisted amusement.  
Author's Note: I just read an issue of Uncanny X-men, and _damn_ Bobby's a jerk in comic canon. Poor Northstar**

**chapter4Epilogue**

As a matter of fact, he _did_ avoid the hangover, but he was so exhausted the next morning that it didn't make much difference. It was a convenient arrangement, with something for everyone involved. There was good sex – actually, John admitted privately, pretty damn fantastic sex – and no danger of taking it too seriously. One week when he didn't spend the night in their room even once, Bobby confronted him about it. John, not for the first time, told him to shut up and mind his own fucking business.

Of course it got out, as such things do

They say that familiarity breeds laxity, and that was certainly true in their case, because one night they forgot to lock the door. In their defence, there was no way they could have known that no-one would be able to find Kitty the next morning. So when Jubilee looked for her in Remy's room, instead she saw the two of them asleep in bed – wrapped around each other and quite naked…only the covers preserving any shred of dignity. Of course, being Jubilee, she immediately ran off to find a camera. Five minutes later, there was photographic evidence.

John could never decide what was worse – the people (mainly boys) shooting them funny looks, or the ones (mainly girls) cooing about what a cute couple they made.

But once people had got used to it, John realised that it had been a good thing. Not only did it mean that they could dispense with all the secrecy, but – to his secret delight – Bobby started looking at Remy with what could only be described as jealousy. And Rogue seemed to have suddenly developed a similar dislike for John. Everything seemed to be going well, and it was only a matter of time before Bobby and Rogue admitted to themselves what was already obvious to everyone else.

John looked at Remy and grinned. He could wait.

**:C'est finis: **


End file.
